


Sleepover

by cyanideinsomnia



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death In Dream, Cute Ending, Dream Sequence, Gen, Implied Relationships, Lucio (The Arcana) Is A Little Shit, Mortality, Past Relationship(s), Pre-Canon, Red Plague (The Arcana), Sleepy Cuddles, cuddlepile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21614452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanideinsomnia/pseuds/cyanideinsomnia
Summary: What he’d intended to say was ‘I don’t want to sleep alone.’“I don’t want to die alone,” Is what came tumbling out of his mouth instead.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "we weren't always miserable", says Asra
> 
> "cuddle count bastard after a nightmare," says me

It almost always snowed in his dreams.

No matter how far Lucio thought he’d gotten away from it, it seemed the icy claws of the South wouldn’t be so easily shaken. He hated it, hated how vividly he could feel the cold air piercing through his clothing and frozen flakes gathering in his hair, on his face and shoulders, shifting as he walked.

The sky was the color of blood, giving the snowdrifts a similar crimson hue. It squelched beneath his heels in a distinctly unsettling fashion, a hint that the color wasn’t a simple reflection - but as always he ignored it, had to ignore it, focusing instead on moving forward. A nearly endless crimson landscape stretched before him, unchanging, disappearing into the horizon and melding with the bloody sky. Sky was ground and ground was sky, the only difference being the direction of the hail of flakes.

If he kept moving, he would be warm. He had no idea where the hell he was going, but he had to keep moving. 

His body ached, joints stiff from the cold and something else he refused to acknowledge. His legs both felt as though they would collapse beneath him and continue walking for eternity all at once, compelled by some unknown force to keep going along this path into oblivion. Distantly he could hear an ominous hum, more of a feeling rumbling his chest than a true sound, frightening and familiar in its timbre.

Buzzing. Insect buzzing. The beating of thousands of small wings as one, following along behind him. Waiting for him to drop, like little red vultures with too many legs and sharp little teeth. He couldn’t go back that way.

Something dark and harder to describe flickered in the corner of his vision as he wiped another set of snowflakes from his eyes. He knew without looking there were more on the other side. They were all around him, surrounding him. Crowding out the red of the sky with black. Distant as the horizon, as close as his own labored breaths.

If he stopped moving, the beetles were not the worst of his worries.

Ahead of him a tall black spire stretched into the red sky, something he hadn’t noticed before but knew was there the whole time. Distantly he could make out odd-shaped red clouds circling the shaft, the ominous buzzing in his ears growing louder the longer he strained to pick out their shapes, a sense of foreboding colder than the wind howling against his face twisting in his chest the closer his legs drew him towards it.

This must be his destination.

The massive shadow of the tower - or was it The Tower? - swiftly consumed the red snow and the speck of white and gold traversing it, looming overhead like it was holding up the world itself. The buzzing was deafening now, indicating that he was walking _towards_ the beetles, drawn back into the swarm like a moth to the flame. 

He couldn’t turn back, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to run. He kept walking, even as the world beneath his heels juddered and shifted, a cataclysmically loud inanimate groaning piercing through the buzz, like the hull of a ship being destroyed in a storm right next to his ear.

The Count gazed up in time to see the near-endless black shaft of the Tower bend and wobble, like no massive structure should be able to do. 

The base began to crack, slowly enough at first that he thought it was a trick of the light. Red lines spread outwards along the black stone like a plague in their own right, steadily widening into crimson chasms, obsidian debris the size of Vesuvian Navy vessels slowly crumbling from the edges of its fresh wounds and dropping into the snow, rattling the ground and nearly knocking him on his ass.

The Tower was falling.

The Tower was falling, and he was standing directly in its path.

He took a step back, twisting around to run back the way he came - even though he knew he had slightly more of a chance for survival if he wasn't running in its path, that's where his legs decided to go - and slammed face first into crimson snow with a startled yelp as burning chains burst from the ground beneath him, curling tightly around both legs mid stride.

Lucio swiftly pushed himself up onto his knees and back onto his ass, for a moment transfixed by the Tower's shadow stretching just as endless on this side. Movement just above the horizon caught his attention, what appeared to be a gradual, agonizingly slow descent of a second landscape - he realized with horror that that was the Tower's shaft falling to Earth, the top somewhere out there in oblivion.

He forced himself to stop watching, desperately grabbing and pulling at burning metal to try to free himself, ignoring the pain searing through both arms and down his spine. If he got out now, he could make it. The shadow wasn't endless widthwise, was it? And he was a damn good runner when he had to be.

He would worry about burned flesh and scorched gold later. Jules would fix it and it would be fine. He just had to get out. He _would_ get out. 

Why wouldn’t these fucking chains come loose? 

Frustrated tears stung at the corners of his eyes, freezing the moment they escaped. His shaking hands couldn’t keep hold of the chains anymore, slicked with blood from the burst blisters along his flesh one, a peek of bone beneath torn skin. He focused on the pain instead of the terror gripping his chest, threatening to paralyze him. Trembling golden claws sunk into the trapped flesh instead, muffling an agonized whimper against his shoulder, but he couldn't press them any deeper when he realized he'd have to lose both legs if he got out that way, forced to ignobly crawl on his belly away from and likely into certain death.

It was bad enough he had to die like this, trapped like an animal, cold and alone.

The shadow beneath him was growing steadily darker, like a void opening up under his legs. It was coming and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it, even if he DID manage to get loose. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited, hoped, begged himself to wake up before the impact. The cold wind continued to howl in his ears, merciless, his wounded hand stinging with little insect mouths digging into his flesh, his face stinging with cold tears.

Darkness behind his eyes grew that much darker somehow, a shroud of deafening, almost-physical silence dropping over him, suffocating him. Time stopped for a long moment, just long enough to wonder if death was still coming - before something hard and heavy pressed against his back first, rolling down his spine, slamming him back down into the snow.

His mind didn’t allow him to escape until he very vividly felt his skull crack and his ribs shatter, a sickeningly hot burst of blood and organs leaping up his throat, whole body popping like little more than overfilled sausage beneath unrelenting obsidian. Echoes of agony in those final moments followed him into the darkness between dreams, suffocating him again, drowning him in his own blood.

Distantly he could hear voices, and desperately clawed against the paralyzing black shroud of slumber and silence towards them.

“--thank you again, Doctor, Asra.” Nadia. “You know how he can be.”

Her voice was fading further away. He couldn’t hear the responses of the other two, but it sounded like they were already in the doorway, or the hall - they were leaving, was the important part here.

Noddy had her own wing, her own bed. She was going with them, leaving him here alone.

Pale eyes shot open with a bolt of panic, their owner struggling to push himself upright. Something small fell from his fingers onto the floor, a flash of black and red before landing face down beside the bed. He vaguely remembered playing Tarot before sleep had consumed him, possibly mid-game like a damn geezer.

The three half-blurred shapes were moving further away. He’d worry about that later. He had to stop them now.

“W-Wait!” His voice was strained, and cracked when he tried to force some authority back into it. “I didn’t say you could leave yet.”

Three heads quickly swiveled back to look at him, just dizzying enough that he couldn’t make out whatever expressions were on their faces. Lucio sucked in a breath and gazed over them to the Painting on the back wall, using that handsome creature’s visage as a balm to soothe the upcoming blow to his ego.

What he’d _intended_ to say was ‘I don’t want to sleep alone.’

“I don’t want to die alone,” Is what came tumbling out of his mouth instead.

He only realized the mistake when Julian was by his side again in another dizzying flourish of motion, Nadia two steps behind and Asra lingering by the door. 

“My God, his symptoms must be worsening - that sounded _sincere_.” 

Auburn curls of the doting doctor hanging in his face did absolutely _nothing_ to hide the expressions of concern and pity among the group this time, and he hissed and pulled away from Julian’s probing fingers, as much as he wanted to lean into them. He’d noticed their attention beginning to taper in these last few months — if it wasn’t for those damnable pitying eyes, he was almost tempted to play up his affliction for those scraps.

“It’s _fine_. I’m fine. I’m not dying yet. I just—” The Count shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the lingering claws of fear. “I want you to sleep with me. All of you.” 

Julian opened his mouth.

“ _Just_ sleep. Together. For the rest of the night, if nothing else.” 

They glanced between each other, and he tried not to listen for unspoken words. 

“I know you’ve got your.. previous obligations,” Lucio sniffed, eyes once again focused on anything else to regain some kind of normalcy. They landed on the sheets, the color of blood, and he stifled a shudder. “But you’re already here, and we were just— it’s not that much to ask, is it? Hardly a sacrifice. Actually an improvement, I’d think.”

He didn’t have to look up to know Noddy was probably rolling her eyes. But it didn’t sound like they had left yet. The good Doctor Devorak was still kneeling next to him, the point of a gangly knee in the corner of his vision. He had to resist the temptation to grab it and pull him on the bed that way, as if he had the strength.

… admittedly, the man weighed at most ten pounds wet, he probably had the strength.

“Julian said we were close to a breakthrough,” Asra’s voice piped up, a bit closer than the door. “You _know_ how time-sensitive this is. One night might be—”

“ _Might_ be close to a breakthrough, I said _might_ ,” Julian pointed out, his paper-thin will obviously already crumbling. “I don’t— we’ve already—”

“You have your dogs, you won’t be alone.” Nadia quietly assured, still shaken by his accidental ~~ly true~~ declaration. 

Behind her, he could barely make out the white, fluffy outlines of Mercedes and Melchior, outstretched by the door in a deep sleep that would make the dead envious. They likely wouldn’t move unless he manually got up and moved them, which completely defeated the purpose of this exercise because the bed was already warm. 

Logically, he knew he should let them go, especially if there was a potential breakthrough for the cure waiting for them beyond his domain. He was caught between temporary comfort and permanent relief, in this annoyingly vulnerable state unable to prioritize one over the other, finding them both equal. He just knew he didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts and his sickness and the creeping dread coiled in his gut.

Alright, fine. Damn his pride.

Lucio breathed a deep sigh, just deep enough for one harsh cough but not enough to trigger a full fit, making himself look as small as possible amidst the sheets. He tilted his head up just enough to gaze at them with big, bloodshot eyes, aiming for the verge of tears but not the actual flow — that was a mess no one needed, least of all himself — the rest of his expression falling into an almost comical picture of betrayal, as though they’d personally wounded him.

“... you’re right,” He softened the sharp edges in his voice, tone tremulous and hurt as he sunk back down. 

His pitiful gaze lingered a moment longer before he turned his head away, dramatically resting it on the pillows, golden hand pressed against his chest as though his heart would stop at any moment. The cool metal sent another shudder through his emaciated frame, one he didn’t bother to stop.

“I _guess_ I can manage one more night on my own… cold and alone... cruelly abandoned by my friends and wife in my time of need… just the whim of a dying man, nothing important, leave me to my fate…”

A brief stretch of silence. He wondered if maybe he’d laid it on a bit too thick.

His eyes remained closed in his self-induced fugue state, so he couldn’t assess the crowd. But after another long moment there was the familiar creaking and warmth of another human being crawling into the big red bed beside him. His lips twitched into a self-satisfied smirk as another followed on the other side, and another on the previous.

Lucio immediately shifted from scrunching to spreading, filling the gaps between them and gently urging them to scoot further in with a tug or two. This time he didn’t settle until he was almost completely, uncomfortably crushed between presumably Nadia and Julian - soft and hard, respectively - and his fingers could brush Asra’s hair around the taller man between them. Connected to all three of them. Surrounded by his possessions. 

“That was unfair,” Nadia’s voice hissed from his left, followed by a gentle shove against his prosthetic.

“You know you love it~” He chuckled.

Just like that, the weird tension that had fallen over the room following his declaration had broken, and it was like they’d never left. Pinned in and warm like he was, it would be that much harder for whatever horrible portent was lurking in his dreams to follow through.

Sure, he’d probably get tired of being unable to escape some time through the night, but right now, he felt.. protected.

Another creaking on the bed forced him to open his eyes again, briefly wondering who it could be if all of them were here, and his smile grew wider as both sighthounds flopped down on his legs, trapping him the rest of the way with a yawn and a huff. Now he was _definitely_ protected, although he lamented he couldn’t pet them in this position.

With a contented hum Lucio shifted a bit so that he could lay his head on warm flesh rather than silk, forcibly ignoring how his new pillow stiffened beneath his cheek.

“G’night.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen I know his edgelord dream is super obvious to the audience, but also I want him to squirm some more

This time his sleep was dark and dreamless, but Lucio still startled awake, the darkness of the room indicating the night had hardly moved in his absence.

Nadia was deep asleep on his left, her back turned towards him, loose hair spilling over her pillow like a reddish violet waterfall. Julian had shifted closer instead, soft breaths against his neck, tangled curls against his jaw, one gangly arm draped across his chest, a similarly long leg loosely coiled around his thigh - he had almost forgotten just how _clingy_ his doctor could be, although he had a sneaking suspicion this was meant for someone else.

His dogs had shifted from his legs to the foot of the bed, Mercedes’ snout lazily draped on a bare foot, Melchior lying upside down with his legs in the air like an upended beetle, jowls burbling in his sleep. 

That was all well and good - but he couldn't help but notice his right hand was empty, tangled in an equally vacant pillowcase.

He immediately turned his head towards the flash of white and brown in the corner of his vision, in the midst of rising from his bed while he probably thought no one was aware.

“Where are you going?” Lucio hissed, wincing as it came out more alarmed than accusatory.

Asra stopped in his tracks, looking as though he'd caught him in the midst of high treason. Good. Feel guilty, you little brat.

“... nowhere,” The magician sighed, lowering himself back down to the bed with silent grace.

“That's what I thought.”

The Count let his right arm curl around his redheaded creeper vine rather than attempt to hold onto Asra again, relatively confident he wouldn't make another escape attempt until sleep returned to claim him. Which felt like a long time coming right now, no matter how exhausted he was.

Silence fell between the posts of his bed, an uneasy silence only broken by soft snoring and dog burbles. He was mostly freed now, but he still felt trapped. His eyes refused to stay shut, gazing aimlessly at the red canopy as though it might hold some kind of answer, noticing too well the shadows painting it black and more solid than he knew it was.

Lucio let the silence stretch as far as he could before speaking up again, glancing over to the edge of the bed, where Asra sat calmly flipping through his tarot deck in a single shaft of moonlight.

“.. your fortune telling stuff. Does it include dream interpretation?”

“It can,” Asra didn't look up. “Let me guess, you had a bad dream.”

He felt himself bristling, and tried to hold onto that flare of irritation as long as he could before the echoes of fear came to swallow it up. “I fucking _died_ . Not like fade to black, you probably died before you woke up sort of thing but the whole event. In detail. I'd say that's a _little_ bad.”

“You're dying from the Plague, of _course_ death would feature heavily in your dreams.”

To his credit, Asra did finally appear to be paying attention to him more than the cards, curious more than concerned. He wasn't sure if he could handle concerned. He already had that much more of his nerves stripped bare by the blasé reminder of his current situation.

His golden arm came up to join the flesh one in trapping Julian against his chest like an oversized doll, lips pursed in a pout. “Am I allowed to tell you the rest of it, your highness?”

“You're not going to sleep until you do, I imagine.” Asra shrugged.

Lucio let another stretch of silence consume them first, focusing on forcing himself to stop trembling quite so much in case he rousted the other two - and more to the point, in case he allowed Asra to know just how frightened he was. It was probably obvious by now, but his pride demanded he try to hide it regardless.

His pride managed to exclude the crying - he had no interest in knowing if it represented anything but cowardice - but otherwise his tale was completely faithful in every detail, especially the disgusting ones at the end. His natural inclination to embellish may have made them a bit more disgusting than they needed to be, and if his arms weren’t currently occupied, there would probably be hand gestures for the full effect. 

It was vividly in his head again, but the look on Asra’s face was well worth it.

“Well?” He finished, wincing and chancing a glance at the others as he realized it was closer to his normal volume. Nadia didn’t stir, and Julian only snuggled closer against his neck. “What does it mean? _Besides_ the very reasonable fear of dying thing.”

“Blood, snow, chains, beetles, unspeakable horrors following behind them, The Tower falling and being trapped under it--” Asra listed off each thing on each finger. “-- did I miss anything?”

“The chains were burning hot, like fire but made out of metal.”

“Fire chains.”

“And I think beetles ate my hand.” He sniffed, flexing his own fingers with a shudder. “Also human intestines have a very distinct flavor and I have no idea why I would know that.”

“Thanks for that.”

“It was like-- veal? Veal sausage. But nothing like veal sausage.”

The essence of the phrase ‘thanks for that’ continued to be etched silently in brown features, arms folded across his chest. “Did you want a reading or not?”

Lucio awkwardly cleared his throat, a flash of something like shame running through him, swiftly followed by the urge to cough outright. He barely managed to wrestle it back down into a rough grunt, lightly nodding and then falling dead still as Julian shifted against him with a soft sound of his own. His flesh fingers moved to stroke the doctor’s hair, slowly combing through auburn curls until his breathing slowed and his grip relaxed.

Thankfully Asra also waited until the taller man stilled before shifting towards them on the bed, tarot cards forgotten. 

“Blood, I think, is pretty straightforward. You’re no stranger to blood.” The magician smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “The Tower brings unavoidable, catastrophic changes - no matter which way the shadow fell, it would still crush you. You willingly walked into it, which means you knew it was coming, and may even have engineered it yourself.”

His fingers twisted against Julian’s scalp, but he said nothing.

“You feel trapped, like an animal in a snare. Given enough time, you’ll be desperate enough to gnaw yourself free. But you don’t have that time, and you know it. You’ll die cold, alone and forgotten in a wasteland of your own making, nothing more than food for scavengers.”

By now Asra had risen on his hands and knees, leaning over the Count as though he were another scavenger waiting to take his corpse. Despite his words, his tone was calm and easy, almost playful.

“But do you want to know what I think?”

One bronze hand lifted, and despite himself he flinched from it, another pang of shame settling uneasily in his gut as a finger simply poked him in the nose.

“I think you should stop reading about bad omens before bed.”

His lips twitched into another pout. “... they’re cool when they’re not happening to me.”


End file.
